After
by divakat
Summary: Gillian deals with what comes after...Angsty little fic that might become something more. Rated M for implications, nothing overt.
1. Chapter 1

**I really don't know where this came from but I blame Recoilandgrace **

**For making me all angsty and suchwith her brilliance. Yup, I said it. **

**So , I don't know quite where this is going yet but I had this image stuck in my head and I had to get it out. This is dark and angsty. Let me know if you think I should keep going. There is no outright smuttiness but I have rated it M for the implications.**

****Once again, fox sucks. They don't deserve a disclaimer.****

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><p>Gillian fingered the edges of the rip in her blouse. It wasn't so bad. The tear was straight and clean and she could mend it if she tried. She ran the tip of her finger over the exposed threads and winced as she once again felt the strong hands that had gripped the material, clinging to it until the silken strands could no longer hold together.<p>

She was glad it was so late. She could go straight down the hall and straight to her car and no one would see. Thank god she had driven today rather than hop the metro. Although if it weren't for the state of her blouse she would have relished the numbing sound of the train as it clacked along the tracks and the gentle soothing rocking of the car. She was afraid to be alone with her thoughts for the drive home. She didn't want to think about what would come next.

She wanted a shower. She had cleaned up as best she could…after. But she still felt the sticky wetness on her thighs and she could smell him everywhere on her. Not that his smell was unpleasant but she didn't want to be reminded right now. Not after…

She looked at herself in the mirror. She had wiped the dark imprint of her mascara from beneath her eyes but she was still blotchy, and there was no remedy but time for the swelling of her lips which still carried the memory of each gentle brush of his mouth against her, each brutal assault. Her neck felt sore and her shoulder gently throbbed where he had…She shook herself and looked closely at her neck. It was red certainly, but she hoped the redness would not turn to bruises. If it did, surely she could hide it.

She smiled at herself in the glass, testing her mask. The men in her life had made her an expert at smiling through the pain, such an expert that she almost believed it herself. No one would notice that the smile didn't really reach her eyes. Well, no one who didn't know why, at least, no one who hadn't perfected his own mask years ago.

She backed away slowly, letting the mask fall. If she just put one foot in front of the other it would be alright. She cursed the trembling in her legs and the soreness between her thighs that refused to let her forget, made her mind flicker with sharp images that made her steps falter and her heart skip. She had to swallow the groan of self loathing that rose involuntarily in her throat.

She didn't want to go into her office. Not tonight, not after…. But there was no escape. Her purse was beneath her desk. If only she had an extra key to her car. Her office glowed as the solitary light in the hallway. His was dark, she had made sure to check, after... She tried to focus on her desk, keep her eyes firmly glued to that single safe place. She would have to face it tomorrow and the next day and every day after but tonight she didn't have the heart, not after…

Despite her best efforts, her eyes caught on a hint of red and black that didn't belong, poking out from between the cushions of her couch. Damn. She'd wondered about that. Steeling herself, she turned to the couch and felt her breathing hitch as she knew it would, felt the tears against her lower lids predictably. She quickly gathered the lacy scrap of fabric that had formerly been her underwear and tucked it into her purse. She wanted to throw them away but they had a cleaning service and, well, people talked.

She took one last glance around the room through tear blurred vision, making sure as best she could that nothing else was dreadfully out of place, nothing else was a tell tale sign. Her desk was clean, the pictures straightened on the wall, the couch wiped clean. There was nothing left but her memories. She could live with the memories, but could she live with after..?

The air outside was cold and moist and she embraced the clammy feeling against her skin. At least it was something different. She got in her car and turned the key but couldn't bring herself to put the car in gear. She didn't want to go home but she couldn't just sit here forever staring at the lights of her dash and the empty space where his car should be. _Like a thief in the night,_ she thought.

No, there was no place to go but home. If it were any other time and any other reason she would have gone to him and the warm embrace of his home and family. He could always make her forget the world for awhile. He always knew what she needed, gave her what she wanted without her asking, sometimes even when she didn't know she needed it. Tonight she had given him what he needed, what she thought she wanted and now all she was left with was…after.

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><p><em>So should I continue this?<em>


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: This is gonna get rough. I am breaking this up into 2 chapters and confining the really M stuff to the next chapter. This kind of thing is very difficult for me to write, just so you know.**

**Don't own it...I hate FOX...is that enough of a disclaimer?**

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><p>"What is this Gillian?" he stormed angrily into her office, holding the file in front of him as an accusation.<p>

"Cal…" she stood up from behind her desk where she had been working, startled by his sudden entrance and obviously frightened by his fuming rage.

"Just answer the fucking question Gillian. What the _fuck," _he slammed the file on her desk, sending papers flying in every direction, "is _this?"_

Her eyes caught on one of the scattered pieces and he saw her eyes widen in surprise before she flinched and then straightened, her own heated anger suddenly replacing fear on her face.

"Where did you get this?" she asked. "Did you go through my _files?"_

"I didn't have to go through your files Gillian, you set it in the middle of my bloody desk," he spat.

The confusion on her face was enough to stem the tide of his anger slightly. "Cal, I didn't leave that on your desk. I don't know who did. That file was in my personal filing cabinet last time I saw it."

"Tell me this isn't what I think it is." He was no longer yelling but somehow his quiet anger cut even deeper. No, she realized, it wasn't the anger so much as the pain beneath it.

"And what exactly do you think it is?" she crossed her arms beneath her breasts.

"Commercial real estate profiles, finance rates on business loans, bids from employment agencies? Any fool looking at this could see exactly what you're considering. What I'm asking Gillian, is for you to be honest with me."

"Honesty?" she scoffed. "Why do I find that word so funny coming from you? You want me to be honest, Cal? Yes. Yes, I considered leaving you and starting a business of my own. Yes, I considered that maybe just maybe I wanted to come to work every day and focus on something that matters, something that makes a difference rather than worrying about which federal agency you want to piss off today or which piece of tail you're currently chasing."

He stared at her in stunned silence as her words stung and sunk into him. Finally one word in her scathing diatribe bubbled to the surface: "Considered?"

"What?" She was confused.

"You said considered. As in, past tense." He blinked at her, still not even sure why the words were coming out of his mouth.

She looked at him sadly but a quiet anger smoldered behind her eyes. She turned and walked to the window, apparently unable to face him. "Yes Cal, I said 'considered'", she sighed. "I was right there, right on the edge of just walking away," she said bitterly.

"And why the hell didn't you?"

"Because I decided I could live with being angry and disgusted with you, even hating you, more easily that I could live without you." He couldn't mistake the catch in her voice, he'd heard it too many times. "Isn't that pathetic? I mean, I had the strength to walk away from a ten year marriage Cal, a legally binding contract and yet I can't find it within myself to close the door on a self-destructive narcissist with mildly psychopathic tendencies?" She turned to face him. "Someone I might add, who has put my life in danger more times than I care to think about with his own reckless behavior."

He stood silently staring at her. He didn't know why his rage was still slowly churning just below the surface. Was he angrier that she had considered leaving or that she had gotten so close and chosen to stay? He wanted to grab her and shake her and tell her to come to her senses and run while she still could but she simply stood there, daring him to push her one step further. Without any forethought his arm snaked out, seemingly of its own volition, to wrap around her neck, his fingers twining in her hair and pulling her neck back sharply as he pressed his lips to hers. Her mouth parted in angry protest and she beat her fists against his chest as he forced his tongue between her teeth.

The explosion of pain just below his eye from her full force slap to the side of his face forced him to withdraw and he put a hand to his cheek and cursed, staring at her is disbelief as she drew the back of her hand across her mouth. He immediately regretted what he had done. He felt as though she had not only slapped him but sucker punched him in the gut. His shoulders fell and he ran a hand through his hair.

"I deserved that," he admitted

"Yes." Her chest heaved as she fought to regain her breath and massaged her hand gently.

They stood starring at one another, neither willing to give more ground. He felt like an ass but there was still an undeniable tension in the room. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could she launched herself at him, arms circling his neck as she pulled him into an embrace as crushing as his had been a moment before. Her lips fought his for control of the kiss and he let her take it for a moment, opening his mouth to her before taking her face in his hands and stroking her jaw, forcing her to back off slightly. Her nails dug into the back of his neck.

"I hate you," she mouthed against him.

He grabbed a handful of her hair roughly and pulled back. "Say it again," he snarled, forcing her to meet his eyes.

She opened her mouth and then closed it again, hissing as his fingers tightened their hold on her hair. She opened her eyes and looked at him defiantly. "I hate you," she said steadily.

"That's a lie," he growled as he buried his face in her throat. She clawed at his back and pushed up his shirt as he sunk his teeth into the soft flesh at the joining of her neck and shoulder. He drew her tender skin into his mouth, suckling until he felt warmth rise to the surface. Each taste of her was intoxicating, each gasp from her enthralling, pushing him further and further beyond the boundaries of control.

_yup...you'll have to wait._


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry it took me so long to get back to this. Summer is busy. I know some of my regular readers have said they really don't care for this because of the different nature of it and I just want to say...It's cool. You are not obligated to like everything I write!**

**For those of you who are reading...hopefully it will not take me quite so long to get back to this next time.**

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><p>Of course he'd thought about after…It was just more that he'd thought about it in a 'what will this mean to our business- what do we tell the employees-how do I tell Emily- what does she like for breakfast?' sort of way.<p>

He hadn't imagined the look on her face.

The churning aching feeling in his stomach had started almost immediately when he could breathe again. Suddenly all he could see was the fear that he had been too caught up in his own overpowering need to attend to or question only a moment before, had been too lost in her to do more than passively note that desire wasn't the only thing there while she gazed up at him with half closed and lust glazed eyes.

This was why he'd be waiting, of course. This was that unnamed, intangible thing that had stayed his hand for so long.

"Fuck!" he screamed to the universe in general. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" His hand beat the steering wheel and his head pounded the car's headrest and he felt none of it. The single syllable tore from his throat again and again and ripped at the ache that had formed just below his Adam's apple as he drove. He fought the urge to try his fist against the glass windshield. He flexed his fingers and stared at his shaking hand and then hastily ran the tips of his fingers over the rough fabric of his jeans trying to wipe away the sense memory of Gillian's slick throbbing heat and the silken skin of her thighs as it slid beneath his hands.

He closed his eyes and took a breath, took another, and another. He was breathing. He could survive this. Would she? Would they?

He had fucked up by walking out, he knew it. He had felt the wrongness of it even as his legs carried him hurriedly away from her but he hadn't been able to see a moment beyond the fear. He knew there was more there, he could read all of her unvoiced questions and platitudes but it was the fear that drove him to his knees, sent him scrambling for his hastily discarded shirt. It was fear that sent him racing down the beltway at 100mph until he simply couldn't breathe anymore.

Why the fuck had he ran? Cal Lightman was not a man who ran from things. No, that was a lie. He ran all the time. Ran from the memory of his mother, ran from his feelings for Gillian, and ran from the bitter knowledge that no matter how successful he became he was still a failure. In fact, his whole life was nothing but one long race as he managed to stay just one step ahead of his demons.

Tonight his step had faltered and the demons had pounced the moment he finally laid spent and exhausted between Gillian's thighs.

He pushed his thumbs into the corners of his eyes ignoring the dampness as he did so, and tried to focus on the road. He hadn't paid attention to where he was driving and he realized he had passed the exit for his home nearly ten miles back. He took another deep breath and eased back onto the freeway.

He wanted to drive. He stared at the blacktop stretching out before him in an endless path that could carry him from this moment to the tip of South America or the wastes of the Tundra where he could lose himself in a bottle for as long as it took to forget. So many places he could hide.

He sighed deeply. No matter how far he ran he knew he could never hide from himself and tonight it was the pair of deep-set hazel eyes staring him down in the rear view mirror and their bottomless well of self-loathing that were his greatest enemy.

Cal tried to clear his head. He focused on the flashing strips of yellow on the road as he automatically made the set of turns that would take him home. He tried not to blink. Each time he closed his eyes the image of Gillian's face flashed behind his eyes. Gillian's lovely face contorted in anger, contorted in fear, contorted in ecstasy. Each image assaulting his senses as if it had been branded into him.

As he pulled into the driveway he sat and stared at the light flowing from the windows on the lower floor of the house.

"Shit." He hadn't thought about Emily. He took a deep breath, ran a hand through his hair and pulled into the garage. Perhaps he could just pop up the back stairs without her even noticing. She did listen to the stereo awfully bloody loud sometimes. He quietly opened the door and stepped into the hall. He managed to ease the door shut the door with only the slightest click. He turned, shrugging out of his coat as he did so only to have his heart nearly fly out of his chest when he found himself face to face with Emily who had her hands on her hips and a disappointed scowl on her face.

"Christ Em, you bloody scared the piss out of me," he chastised.

"Why are you sneaking in?" she asked, tilting her head to the side in a move that reminded him strikingly of his mother.

"I'm not sneaking, alright, I was just…being quiet…you know, in case you were sleeping." He breezed past her and planted a quick kiss on the side of her head. He tossed his coat over a chair and turned to find her staring at him wide eyed.

"What?" he asked, trying to keep the sheepish tone out of his voice.

"What did you do?" she asked breathlessly, mouth agape and arms wrapped around her body.

He could hear the awe behind her accusation, as if she already knew the answer. Of course there was no way she could possibly know. "Nothing darling, nothing. Just a rough day is all."

"Dad, don't even try to lie to me. You smell like…" she trailed off and he could see the color rise in her cheeks.

"I'm sorry?"

"Like…_sex_ dad."

"I beg your pardon?" He really wished his voice hadn't shot up an octave.

"And Gillian's perfume, so let me ask you one more time: What did you do?" She sounded both frightened and angry.

His shoulders slumped and he flopped into the closest chair. "It's complicated Em."

"It's really not. Did you screw it up?" She planted her hands on her hips.

He hesitated. He could be his father here. Get all stoic and tell her to drop it. Bury himself in a bottle of booze for the next week. "I did muck it up a bit I suppose, yeah."

"Fix it." She said simply.

"I don't know if I can this time Em," he replied honestly.

"Try."

"It's just not that simple, darling. I wish it were," he sighed.

"Try really hard," she said insistently, picking up his keys off the counter and dangling them in front of him meaningfully.

"What, you mean now?" he said incredulously.

"Yes, I mean _right _now dad." She jangled the keys and looked at him expectantly.


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm going to say that this little chapter was re-inspired by Tim's massive presence on twitter lately, the discussion of naked pics, and my xxxxxx goodnight. Just sayin'**

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><p>He drove. The passing streetlights and flickering pools of illumination hypnotized him and he slipped into memory without conscious though.<p>

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><p>There was no air. Each breath consisted purely of her and everything she was. Every sense was full of her, each cell in his body on fire for her.<p>

A couch. Somewhere in this room he knew there was a couch but his vision was so clouded with the red haze of his heated arousal that reasoning out its location seemed like too much. He managed to pull away enough to reorient himself while Gillian worked frantically at his belt buckle. One careful step at a time he backed her up until her knees hit the edge of the sofa. She had managed to undo his belt and the buttons of his fly and one long fingered hand dipped eagerly into his pants while the other pushed them hurriedly downward.

She sat down on the couch and before he could even move to cover her body with his, her lips were on his cock, her tongue stroking him invitingly as she drew him inside. He hissed as her teeth scraped roughly at his flesh but thrust into her hard, feeling the muscles in the back of her throat close around him tightly as she gagged at his sudden advance. He savored the sweet sensation of oral possession for seconds only, before pulling out quickly and hauling her up into a standing position again. He put his mouth to hers and drove his tongue inside. Tasting himself on her lips only made his cock throb harder.

Gillian was pushing at his shirt in an attempt to reach more of his skin and he reluctantly removed himself from her lips to drag it over his head. He had much less patience for her clothing. Not even bothering with the buttons he tugged at the fabric of her blouse and felt the satisfying give as the fragile fabric tore beneath his fingers. He pushed the remnants of the garment forcefully down her shoulders and, as she took a moment to free herself from it completely, buried his face between her breasts.

He knew he was being rough but her breasts were the perfect combination of firm and soft and their weight in his palm was a fast addiction he didn't want to be free of. From the way her nails dug into his scalp and the harsh rasp of her breathing it didn't seem as though she minded his crude touch. When he clamped down on her nipple with his teeth through the lace of her bra she convulsed against him.

As if coming to her senses momentarily she gasped and pushed him away suddenly. Her eyes took a moment to focus as she ran a trembling hand over her breast. Her eyes were wide and her chest heaved with each breath as she stared at him, her eyes softening slightly as she gazed across the small distance between them. She opened her mouth as if to say something but he moved his hand to his cock, pumping gently as whatever she had been about to say turned into a sharp gasp. She pressed her thighs together with a soft moan and moved her hand over her breast.

There was no more holding back. The moment of question had been lost to the heat of their passion. With rough hands he pushed up her skirt gripping her beneath her buttocks as he pulled her up against his body, lifting her onto her toes as he inserted himself between her thighs. He deposited her on the couch and quickly covered her. He pressed her long leg upwards and draped it over the back of the couch. The scent of her as she lay open to him was intoxicating and as much as he needed to be inside of her, he refused to let the opportunity slip by to feast on that most intimate taste.

He held her down with a strong hand to the middle of her chest as he lowered himself. Her skirt was fully around her waist and offered no impediment to him. He stroked the insides of her thighs, closing his eyes as his cock twitched violently in response to the impossibly smooth creamy white skin slipping beneath his fingertips. Gillian writhed with a small moan but he held her in place. He put his lips to flesh just above her knee and began working his way up slowly, trailing his tongue over the silken sweetness. Her hands snaked down as she attempted to touch herself and relieve her tension but his hands were faster and he secured her tiny wrists against her abdomen with one strong fist.

Finally, he inched forward enough to place his lips against the damp lace of her panties. Breathing deeply of her musky feminine scent, he began to devour her with his mouth without hesitation. He nibbled at her clit, slipped his tongue around the fabric of her panties to tease at her entrance and then set up a suckling rhythm that had her crying out his name almost instantly with every lap of his tongue. He couldn't possibly have imagined the effect that each of her sounds would have on him. He literally felt as if he could explode with each pleading moan, each deeply satisfying gasp.

When he could simply take no more, he moved quickly. Releasing her hands, he grasped his cock with one hand and tore at the flimsy and soaked material of her panties with the other. There was a quick and satisfying rip as the lace gave way and he didn't hesitate a moment before plunging into her deep and hard. The quick stroke brought him face to face with her again and he sought her eyes as he grabbed the hair at the base of her neck for support and drove in again with equal fervor.

He had felt how close she was only a moment before and her face began to take on a furrowed look of concentration as she once again sought the edge of release. He wasn't sure he could wait. He raised up slightly and changed his angle of penetration, now pressing hard against her shoulder as he pushed her leg up slightly higher. He might be hurting her, it was hard to tell but he was past the point of caring, past the point of control as he strove desperately to bring her to orgasm before his own which was threatening to overtake him any moment.

She rolled her hips desperately against him, crying out harshly with each deep thrust and he felt the last ounce of his control slip away.

"Fuck Gillian, I can't…oh fuck!" and even as the words passed his lips, her hands convulsed against his sides and her body gripped him tightly as he spilled into her, his limbs stiffening and shaking as his breath and come left his body in explosive bursts.

He collapsed on top of her as she continued to tremble around him, the hands that had gripped him so tightly now falling limply to her sides.

It was the silence that had pulled him from the point of nearly passing out still nestled between her thighs. The simple silence of…after.

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><p>And now he was driving again and his cock was rock hard at the memory of their passions. Apparently all the self loathing in the world was not enough to dampen his desire for her. How could it? How could anything?<p>

He turned out his lights and pulled quietly into a space outside her apartment. The lights were out and he considered leaving. He groaned as his daughter's voice echoed in his head.

'_You are not coming back in this house until you have fixed it dad. If you even try, I'm going to stay with mom.'_

She always knew just how to twist the knife, that one. Where did she learn it? With a deep breath he opened his car door and stood staring up the walk to Gillian's apartment. Those twenty five feet seemed like twenty five miles.

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><p><em>umm...did you miss me?<em>


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